


Romeo, The Magic Dog

by flamingburningfandomtrash



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Dogs, F/M, Kisses, Poker, Swearing, what is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:07:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22492681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamingburningfandomtrash/pseuds/flamingburningfandomtrash
Summary: Underfell!!Because I tried to write a one-shot, and got addicted~
Relationships: Sans (Undertale)/Reader
Comments: 36
Kudos: 96





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ayyyyyyy I'm back

The night air outside is cold and crisp, good for walking. At least, in your opinion. Dry, cold nights are the best. They make you wake up, put a little spring in your step. Or maybe that spring is coming from tonight’s plans.

Not much is going to be changed. Just like any other normal night, you’re walking from your shabby downtown apartment to the local monster bar, Grillby’s. It’s operated by an indigo-purple flame elemental after which the bar is named. The place is a popular stop for every kind of monster, and the occasional group of humans who are feeling particularly adventurous. No humans ever go in alone, though.

Except for you.

While some monsters come for the drinks or the food, or maybe a drug deal or to watch fights break out, YOU come for the Saturday poker games. Every Saturday around nine. If you’re late, they don’t deal you in. It’s not an official thing, but everyone brings something to gamble with, and you get to know the players.

There are the Dogs, who are enthusiastic and actually a little less gruff when you get to know them. A bipedal bear in a leather jacket and a gold chain necklace, who doesn’t speak- but keeps an excellent poker face- and occasionally the drunk bunny in the corner, who will stumble in at the last second and often win games by chance.

Now, the only reason anybody lets you in is because they know how fun you are to play with, and how good of a competitor you are. (And, you know, you bring plenty of cash to gamble with…) Otherwise they would have kicked you out for being a human. You’re well aware that life in the Underground was rough, and there aren’t as many monsters left as there should be: but you like playing with them. It’s not like your life is a walk in the park, either.

You live alone- that’s not exactly safe in this neighborhood, but you know what you’re doing- with your golden retriever, Romeo. He’s sweet, excitable, and loud, but you love him anyway. He’s not much of a mouth to feed, luckily. He doesn’t eat half as much as most dogs do, but somehow he’s managed to be perfectly healthy. Your apartment is a real shack, if we’re being honest, but that’s fine with you and Romeo, so you squeak by. Rent normally gets paid on the Sunday after your Saturday poker games.

Because you nearly ALWAYS win.

But today, you have a different plan. One that you’re very interested in seeing the results of. 

See, there’s this skeleton monster. You’ve been observing him carefully for weeks. Unfortunately, there’s not much to observe most of the time. You know that he only ever wears the same things. A leather jacket with the fur on the inside, a mustard-stained shirt, and basketball shorts. He has one pointy gold tooth, red eyelights, a few cracks here and there on his bones. He sits in the exact same place every time you see him- the leather armchair in the corner of the lounge, the one with the least rips and the most comfort. The superior seat.

No-one else EVER takes his spot. Not that you know why. And tonight, you plan to find out.

I mean, really, the guy never speaks or talks to anyone, never even plays poker- just watches. Boring. You’re curious. Will he try to kill you if you take his spot? You’ve gotten out of plenty near-death experiences like that before, whenever you beat some newbie at poker. You’ve had your own close calls. And you really want to know what he’ll do.

When you walk into the little bar, the guys in the lounge are shuffling the decks and pulling out what they plan to gamble with (your eyes light on a wristwatch someone’s using and wonder how good of cards you’ll need to get it). And, sure enough- the leather chair remains empty. 

“Aw, man, we thought we might have a chance tonight,” Dogamy growls at you good-naturedly. He and his mate Dogaressa always play as a team. You’re pretty sure that it’s illegal, but they suck anyway, so it’s not much of an issue to you.

You shrug, pulling a wad of fifties out of your back pocket and dropping them on the table.

“Best of luck, I guess,” you grin, as they eye the amount of money.

You drop into the armchair, wondering if anyone will notice. No, not only do they notice, some of them turn to you completely, surprised.

“Move,” Doggo says, gruffly. 

“What? Why?” you ask, settling in even further.

“That’s where Sans sits, you know,” the bear warns you.

“So his name is Sans…” you say, eyes glittering.

“Yes, and if you mess with him, you aren’t making it out of here alive.” 

You shrug.

“Free country, free chair. If he wants it, he can play me for it.”

Suddenly, the table clears as everyone dashes off, leaving it empty but for a deck of cards. They left cartoonishly fast, you think. You hear a smooth, deep voice growl from behind you.

“that so, dollface?”

~~~~~

Sans had seen you before, plenty of times. He knew who you were. He knew you were bold, and crafty, and could play people like a video game until you got what you wanted. No, you weren’t mean, you were never mean. You stayed out of the drug deals and drinking and fights, only ever coming to this place for the company and a clean game of poker.

He wouldn’t say it to your face- but he liked your guts. Most humans wouldn’t have the courage to settle in so comfortably in a place where they could be so easily killed.

Heh. Maybe you’re just stupid.

So he sat in the back, in his chair, the one nobody else ever took because of his prominent reputation among monsters. And he watched you. He watched you win, lose, try to see if you were cheating somehow. From what he knew, you never were. But maybe you were just that good at cheating. 

And tonight he’s coming in again, ready to kick up his feet and relax. But what he sees- well.

It doesn’t make him angry, necessarily. Though admittedly it doesn’t make him happy either. If you were a monster, he might have initiated a fight or just plain killed you on the spot. But you’re a human. A smart human. And he wants to see where you plan on taking this before he tries stabbing some sense into you.

“-If he wants it, he can play me for it,” he hears you say, confidently. 

“that so, dollface?”

You jump and turn around in his chair. Instantly he’s glad for the close-up of your face. You have dark skin, darker eyes. Deep eyes, beautiful ones. They still have light in them. Your lips are pulled slightly apart, gaping at him in shock. Wondering if he’ll kill you here and now.

Instead, once he’s taken his fill of at looking your face, he looks the rest of you up and down. You’ve got on a loose-fitting tank top, jean shorts, and combat boots. There’s a lot of skin showing, but that just speaks for your confidence. You aren’t fat, and you aren’t skinny- more long the lines of fit. You could run for a long while if you needed to.

“My eyes are up here, buddy,” you say bluntly, once you’ve gotten over your shock. 

If you weren’t such a cocky little thing in need of an attitude check, he would probably have said something flirty and borderline rude. Instead, he just says,

“well, i gotta size up my competitor, don’t i?”

You grin, flashing teeth the same color as his bones.

“So you are gonna play me, huh? What’cha got?”

He pauses- he hadn’t brought anything, he wasn’t expecting to have to gamble tonight…

“nothin’. we use chips. winner gets the chair.”

You grin and nod, re-pocketing your money.

“And if I win, you play tomorrow, too.”

“deal. i win, i get the chair back AND one of those fifties.”

You hesitate- this is your rent money… 

No. You’ll win.  
~~~~~  
After a dealer is picked, and a deck is set out, you two play for a while, always somehow staying pretty evenly matched. You always, by some miracle, seem to have excellent cards, but there’s no sign of cheating. Your hands are always in plain sight- save for when you fold them behind your head and lean back in the chair.

“don’t get too comfy, dollface, i’mma have that seat back soon.”

“Play like it, then.”

His cards, also, around mid-game, start getting better. A lot better. You finally realize you’ll have to bluff your way to victory.

“All in,” you say, with a faux-confident grin, pushing your chips to the center of the table. The monsters ooh and ah.

“all in,” he mutters, pushing his cards in with a just-as-confident smirk.

Of course, he smoked you. You nod at his flush approvingly- you only had high cards. Aces, sure, but just high cards. The bar erupts into applause and groans- some had been placing bets on the end result of the match.

“Good game,” you nod, dropping a fifty dollar bill on the table and standing up. You reach out your hand to shake his. 

He grins, stuffing the money into his pocket, and reaches out to take your hand. Suddenly your hand shoots up his sleeve and grabs the cards he had stowed there- the ones he had been using to cheat the whole round.

“Except I don’t play cheaters,” you say, holding the cards up high so everyone can see them. “So I think I win by forfeit.”

“Oooooohh,” the monsters say, tauntingly. Some, angrily. 

“you little sh-”

“Nope. Insults are below the belt. Just give me my money back.”

He blinks at you. Do you seriously think that that’s gonna happen?

“not today, dollface.” 

And, suddenly, he’s gone.  
~~~~~  
You walk home, angry and despondent. You just gave away fifty dollars of rent money, of which you needed every cent. And now either you or Romeo is going to go without breakfast for a couple days until you can get more. At least you have your sweet dog to come home to soo- *CRASH*.

You whip around towards the alley, where a trashcan rolls out towards you, and someone is being pounded relentlessly against the wall. At first you wince and hurry by, but the weak protests… they’re a voice you recognize.

“c-c’mon man, just lemme go.”

“Filthy cheater, thinking you can get away with shit.”

Another slam, this time accompanied by a yell of pain.

Yeah, you’re pretty sure you hate the guy- Sans, his name was- but nobody should ever yell like that. It’s terrible to hear, worse when you can attach a face to the noises. So you blindly run into the alleyway, holding your over-the-shoulder purse like a baseball bat and swinging it at the attacker’s head. It meets its mark with a loud thud, and the stunned monster drops Sans and falls aside.

Speaking of Sans, he slumps against the wall, giving you a pained snarl.

“don’ come any closer.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, shock still evident in your voice. You knocked out a monster. Oh my god. “I’m not going to hurt you, I’m trying to save your ass. Now get out of here before he wakes up.”

The look on his face can really only be described as surprise. Genuine kindness, after he’s been nothing but gruff to you, was definitely not what he was expecting the next time he saw you. But, unfortunately-

“can’t move.”

“What?”

“i can’t move.”

You’re speechless with fear at this point, because the monster in the corner is already starting to stir and now you’re in danger, too.

“Do the disappearing act from earlier, then!”

Sans thinks about this. Would a shortcut work in his state? You aren’t aware of it, but underneath his shirt a section of his ribs are bloodied and most definitely broken- if not for his time spent sleeping (and raising his HP above maximum), he wouldn’t have survived. But he can’t leave you here after the situation you just got him out of, he owes you and he knows it. They may be twisted- but he HAS morals.

“help me up.”

Your face is incredulous, but a loud groan comes from the monster on the floor.

“help me up!” his voice is rougher, more desperate. 

You finally run over, looping an arm around his, and help him to his feet. He staggers, leaning heavily on you, and together you run into the lobby of the building. A stroke of luck strikes as an empty elevator arrives on your floor- you make a dash for it and get inside just as the doors close. He collapses, sitting on the floor and trying to breathe.

“What floor are you on?” you ask, panting. “Assuming you live here?”

“yeah. six.”

You push the button and the elevator slowly begins to rise. It’s an awkward pause. 

“thanks,” he says, reluctantly.

“Maybe if you didn’t get caught cheating, you wouldn’t be in situations like that.”

He pauses angrily, about to say something, then realizes- you aren’t criticizing him for CHEATING. You’re criticizing him for being CAUGHT. He sits back, laughing weakly as his ribs send a jolt of pain through him. The blood is starting to show through the red of his shirt, but you don’t seem to notice it yet.

“you don’t happen to know healing magic, do ya? i mean, i could probably do it later, but boss sure as hell won’t.”

“Boss?” you ask, curious.

“my brother.”

You nod- “I take it he’s just about as fun as you are. No, I don’t know magic like that. Now, if you need me to make a deck of cards show up inside an orange, I know THAT kind of magic.” 

Your dry humor makes him grin.

“‘fraid that doesn’t do me much good at the moment, sweetheart, but i’ll keep ya in mind.”

“Go figure.”

Finally, the elevator doors speech open. You go to help Sans to his room, but he waves you off.

“i’ll be fine. see ya.”

“Wait,” you call, stepping off after him, a slight grimace on your face. He looks back at you, slightly annoyed. 

“what?”

“I was cheating, too.”

The lights in his eyesockets get small, and he watches you pull a deck of cards… out of your hair? It’s so tightly curled that you can fit a small deck there. He realizes, slowly- when you were putting your hands behind your head…!

“And I’m not judging you, okay? Just don’t get beat up next time.”

“. . . wow. damn.”

“Yeah. Just thought you should know.”

Sans stares at you, slightly shaken. It’s just one surprise after another with you, isn’t it? But, honestly, why are you telling him this? It would do much better for you if you never told anyone how you went about cheating, if it got out you could be beat relentlessly. Sans has a bit of leeway, being a monster- but you’re human. Any word gets out about you, and you’re dead behind a dumpster in twenty seconds, tops.

And why did he tell you what HE told you? About his brother? About living here? Thanking you for saving him… nobody ever thanked anyone in the Underground, what was he thinking, anyway? The fact that he asked you to help him up alone is vulnerable. If he were you, he would have at least pickpocketed himself to get back the fifty dollars he stole.

Hell, if he were you, he wouldn’t have saved you in the first place. 

So why are you SO easy to talk to?

“what’s yer name?” he asks, tugging on his jacket so it covers the steadily growing bleeding showing through his shirt.

“Y/n. You’re Sans, right?”

“yeah.”

“Okay. I hope you get that fixed,” you say, pointing at the blood.

Oh, so you did see.

“will do, dollface.”

And then he walks away. You feel your back pocket become strangely warm, so you reach your hand back- and pull out a fifty dollar bill.

This has to have been the weirdest night of your life.  
~~~~~“Romeo, Romeo, I’m homeo,” you call, walking into your apartment. You realized on the way back that you and Sans live in the same complex.

The excitable dog jumps up and licks at your face, making you laugh.

“Your kisses are, uh, getting better, love,” you giggle. He drops back on all fours and scampers off, leaving you to follow. Maybe now the rest of the evening can be normal.  
~~~~~  
“YOU’RE LATE!” Papyrus calls, storming up to Sans. 

Immediately the younger brother sees the dusty blood and bone marrow dripping off of him.

“You got into a bar fight, didn’t you, you imbecile?”

“nah. some guy in an alley.”

“Good luck with that,” he growls, stalking away. “You’re lucky I’ve already made dinner, otherwise I wouldn’t be letting you have any.”

Good thing he caught that lucky break, he thinks he would’ve died without something to keep his magic up. He sits down, eats the crappy lasagne, and starts healing himself. It’s such a relief on his ribs…

“DON’T DO THAT IN HERE, GO TO YOUR ROOM.” 

Sans looks back up at his brother tiredly. There were times when he was nice. Not kind, but at least nice. He made better food and helped heal and didn’t yell. Tonight, however, does not seem to be one of those nights. Maybe he had a bad day. Whatever it was, Sans knew better than to mess with him.

“ok, boss.”

Once he makes it to his room, he lays down and finishes up healing. There isn’t much to lay down on- a cruddy mattress on the floor, but better than nothing. He’d never admit it to anyone, but he always likes to watch healing magic. It’s so different than his usual red or blue magic- it’s all green and soft. A sign of weakness, of course, Boss made sure to remind him of that frequently… but, who cares?

“’s pretty,” he grunts to himself, in the darkness.

He knows one thing for sure- next Saturday, he needs to go back and see you. The way things are going thus far, he knows he’ll be thinking about you for a long while.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of all the people who you thought would ask you out, the weirdo in the corner sure wouldn't be your first guess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's everything! This is making up for all previous missed fluff opportunities~

~~~~~  
Next Saturday, you leave most of your cash at home in case of another near-robbery. You still have enough to gamble with, and rent for this month is all paid, so for the time being you’re just being careful. You pet Romeo goodbye and head out, walking towards the bus stop that’ll take you downtown.

Mostly, you’re wondering if Sans is going to be here.   
You’re wondering if he’s even alive. 

He was a little rough around the edges, but he was much fairer to you than any of the other monsters. You smile when you remember the banter on the elevator, how nonchalant he’d seemed about being mortally wounded. 

‘Would you be friends with him?’ your mind asks.

Probably, if you’re being honest with yourself. He was a kindred spirit, cheating and whatnot. The up-the-sleeve trick works well, but it’s predictable, and easy to catch. He never would have caught what you were doing. Nobody would have. You sigh to yourself, hoping he hasn’t told anyone. This is how you pay for both you and your dog to live where you do, if you lose this you’re going to have to get a third (or maybe even fourth) day job. And that might kill you.

You hop off your bus and start down the sidewalk towards Grillby’s. When you see the multicolored lights flashing out of the windows, you stop in your tracks. Is it the third Saturday of the month…? You whip out your phone, checking, before groaning. It is. See, every third Saturday, the poker guys pack up to give the more- well- excitable monsters some room. They tend to turn the place into a club for a night, get heavily drunk, do stupid dares… sometimes all three at once, which never goes well. Part of you wants to turn around and see if you can catch a return bus; but you came so far, and you already paid the bus fare to get here, so you might as well go see if Sans is alive. 

One deep breath later, you walk inside the little bar- with the same amount of confidence as usual. Confidence is everything. Show that you’re uncomfortable, and everyone knows you don’t belong. A few partying monsters mutter things to each other or point at you, but nobody stops you as you walk inside. Where’s Sans, though? You check his chair in the back, which doesn’t seem to be taken… and he’s not at the bar, either. Definitely not on the makeshift dance floor, he’s not that stupid. You’re coming to the conclusion that he isn’t here when a monster in the corner yells.

You look over, wondering what he wants… but then you recognize him. 

He’s the monster you knocked out in the alley. With your bag. 

“-telling you, that’s the human! C’mon, guys!”

You backtrack, slipping back through the crowd in hopes that you’ll make it to the door in time, as you feel the blood drain out of your face. You’re a mere two yards from the exit when someone grabs the neck of your shirt and yanks backwards. You stumble, but whoever it is doesn’t release you. Instead he whips you around, grabbing your face and yanking it into the light.

“Oh, this is her, alright.”

Seeing him properly for the first time isn’t exactly a treat for you, though. He seems to be made entirely out of stone, with a strong jaw, large build, and heavily hooded eyes. His voice is nearly as rough as he’s being with you. You pale even further, causing him and his buddies to laugh.

“Whaddya goin’a do with’er, huh?” one asks, touching your face. You pull back as much as you can and yell.

“Stop it, creep!” 

That makes them all freeze, and you feel the hand on your shirt collar tighten with anger. 

“Run that by me again?”

“U-uh…” you stammer, quietly.

“You’re comin’ with us,” he snarls, before turning to his friends with a grin. “Heh, maybe we can have a little fun witcha before we snap that pretty lil’ neck of yours!”

They roar with laughter, and you pull away, starting to fight and resist. You don’t want to be raped, then killed, or whatever the hell they have in mind. God, you should have gotten on that bus and left when you could…

~~~~~

Sans comes slightly late to Grillby’s, wondering if you’ll even be here on the third Saturday of the month. He supposed you’d probably be sitting in his chair, or out dancing with some of your friends, or something. It might take a little while to find you, but he wants to at least see your face again.

Yeah, it didn’t take as long as he anticipated.

When he walks in, he sees you held off the ground by your shirt-collar and face, kicking in resistance. Immediately he feels a fight instinct rear up in him, not unlike the feeling he used to feel when Boss was smaller than him, and he had to protect him. But, seeing the monster walking towards him, dragging you along by your arm, he shrinks back slightly. That’s definitely the guy who beat the living daylights out of him last week.

“We’re gonna give ya a good time, girly, don’t worry!” he laughs. “Well- maybe we’ll be the only ones havin’ the fun!” 

Those words make him stiffen, and he slides directly into the doorway, trying to look as casual as possible. If you can’t beat ‘em, outwit ‘em. Because they sure as hell aren’t doing SHIT with the girl who saved his life.

“hey, buddy, whaddya think you’re doin’ with my girl there?” he asks.

When the rock monster’s eyes light on the short skeleton, he growls.

“The little cheater is back.”

“yep. see, i’m gonna need her right now, or this is going to get ugly.”

You look around in your tight restraints, wondering if Sans is really here-(that’s certainly his voice) and whether or not he’s really going to help you out of your situation. Your eyes dart back to one of the rock guy’s buddies when he speaks.

“Boss, let’er down.”

“Why should I? You a coward?”

“That’s Sans. Papyrus’ brother.”

You watch his beady eyes widen, and he looks back at Sans. Though you can’t see it from your angle, the short skeleton is grinning rather menacingly. Who’s Papyrus? Is Papyrus that ‘Boss’ guy he mentioned last week?

“Oh.”

You drop out of his hands, stumbling backwards. You feel a light arm catch you around your lower back, settling around your waist. Sans pulls you to his side, leaving a discreet bit of space to make sure you aren’t totally creeped out by his actions. He just needs to convince these guys to put the both of you on a mental safe list, and get gone. He turns to you, pretending to soften his expression.

“how ya doin’, sweetheart? these guys mess wit’cha?”

Slightly disturbed, you play along.

“A little.”

He turns his attention to the terrified looking monsters- you notice a slight growl in his voice.

“you wanna explain what you had in mind? or you gonna get outta here before i call my brother?”

“Uh- ‘m real story about last week, Sans! And about the girl! You don’t gotta tell nobody ‘bout nothing, we’re gone!”

They all vanish into the crowd faster than they came- but Sans’ arm doesn’t come off of your waist just yet.

“you ok, dollface?” That sounds more genuine, at least.

“Alive,” you say, taking a few deep breaths. You’re still pale, though.

“good. you oughta go home if ya don’t want guys like that getting on ya again.”

He looks just as gruff as ever, but, sincere this time. Slightly concerned, even. He examines the bruises forming on your face and arms where they grabbed you. The instinct to heal them is automatic, but he’d never do something like that for a human, much less in public.

“why the hell were ya here on the third, anyway? you know it's crawling with weirdos today.”

“I was looking for you,” you sigh, “I thought after last week, you might be dead.”

“oh.”

He looks at you with a mixture of confusion and embarrassment, which is making his cheekbones turn slightly red. How the hell does THAT work? He doesn’t even have blood- well, you assume.

“well, i’m not, so, you can leave now.”

You look down at the dismissal, pulling away. He has to tell himself to release- a small instinct is screaming at him to just hold you, not let you leave, make you stay, convince you that he’s worth your time. But your safety is (probably) more important than that.

“Are you headed home, too?” you ask, crossing your arms. “It might be less mugger-ridden for the both of us if we go together.”

He pauses, squinting at the ground. How are his eyesockets like that? Are they made out of clay? You’re half-tempted to just touch his face and see for yourself. But, his general temperament lets you know that that would be a big no-no. 

“yeah, i’m headed out, anyway,” he lies. “and maybe you’ll get onto a couple more safe lists if i walk with you, anyway.”

“You gonna need to hold my hand and kiss me goodbye?” you ask, sarcastically. 

“don’t get your hopes up, sweetheart.”

You laugh and nod towards the door- he follows you out. 

The streets are alive with activity, but by some miracle, Sans isn’t bumped into by a single person. While everyone is pushing and shoving for sidewalk space, you and him seem to have a little bubble around you.

“Isn’t my bad rep gonna rub off on you?” you ask, looking around.

“what bad rep?” he asks, looking you up and down. “you didn’t, like, kill an old guy or somethin’, right?”

“No, I’m just, you know, human.”

“well- it won’t rub off on me, exactly- being brother to “The Great and Terrible Papyrus” makes me untouchable. literally,” he adds, gesturing to the bubble of space around you. You notice he says those words with more than a little bit of resentment. What is up with him and his brother?

“Yeah, I did notice the guys back at the bar sounded kind of scared when they heard… what’s he done?”

“well, there’s one thing everyone knows him for,” he shrugs. You nod for him to continue. He sighs. “some guy at a dinner party- he threw tons way back when- said the food was gross. course, it got back to my bro. they found the guy the next day with the entire lasagna recipe carved into his back with a knife.”

You gasp- he just chuckles darkly.

“frankly, he coulda done worse. i could THINK of worse.”

Suddenly, you get the feeling this isn’t someone you ought to be hanging around with. He seems to read your face, and lets out a loud, barking laugh.

“heh, kid, loosen up a little. you’re not getting into any a’that stuff. you’re too smart.”

“You’re smart. How come you’re a part of all of this?”

He shrugs, eyelights dimming some.

“guess i ain’t the brightest.”

You think over that for a minute, nearly walking right past the bus stop- Sans has to tap your shoulder so you can backtrack. 

“But- why don’t you just run away? Nobody knows where I live. Except, like, Romeo, but he can’t exactly tell anyone,” you laugh to yourself. “You could hide with me, sometime. I mean- I dunno. If your brother’s beating up on you or something.”

Sans’ first immediate thought is stinging: shit. You have a boyfriend. Or is it a son? But, then again, that would probably warrant a partner of some kind. Romeo. What a stupid-ass name. You and Sans aren’t dating, barely even friends. But he can’t help but feel slightly betrayed at the fact. Damn.

Next, he thinks about the logistics of how long an escape plan would work, if he could stay at your apartment. Maybe a night or two, maybe even three if Boss was distracted. But after about a week his brother would start looking for him- a week and a half and he’d probably have some sort of crew combing the neighborhoods for any sign of his whereabouts. In the end, he might make it two whole weeks (if he was careful) before someone traced him back to your place. 

“nah. besides, that would just get you neck-deep in a lot of crap you don’t wanna be near. i’d probably get in…” he winces at the thought of the punishments and consequences he’s gotten in the past- “uh… trouble… and i can’t even imagine what Boss’d wanna do to you.”

You gulp at the thought yourself. So, maybe hiding him would be a bad idea. But you feel like you should do something, after the spot he got you out of. God, you could’ve been… the impact of what could have happened back at the bar hits suddenly, and you feel the blood drain from your face. Sans notices.

“you ok, kid?”

“Just- thanks. For, you know, back there. Getting me out of that. You didn’t have to.” 

The bus pulls up, and you hop on, trying to hide your red face. God, he’s a monster, monsters don’t apologize to each other, you’re a moron-

“oh. no problem, dollface. didn’t wantcha gettin’ screwed by those assholes, right?”

You half-freeze as he jumps on the bus behind you, not at all expecting that reaction. He nudges you along, and you hop into the first available seat. He pauses, paying the fare for the both of you. You jump-

“Oh, stop, here, I have money-“

“i bet,” he says, kicking back into the seat beside you as the driver hits the gas.

“Stop it. I’m paying my own fare home,” you insist, holding out some money for him to take. He waves it away.

“no, you’re not.”

“You’re the one who saved me from getting beat up in an alley five minutes ago, the least I can do is-“

“and you’re the one who got me out of bein’ beat up in an alley a week ago. just cool your top, dollface.” (He really just wanted to watch you get annoyed… but…)

“Well, I’m paying next time,” you huff.

“next time?” he arches an eyebrow- bone-brow? “well, i like the sound of that.”

You laugh, ears and face still turning red- you hide your face in your hands. Damn, your laugh is super cute. And red is such a cute color on you, you oughta wear it more. You’re all flustered. And, best part is, you offered a next time. Meaning, as subconsciously as it may be, you want to see him again.

“I mean, yeah, next time, if you come next Saturday,” you mumble, still laughing a little at yourself. 

“why not sooner?” he offers- oh, now HE’S red in the face. He just asked out a human! Boss would kill him!!

“Huh. Why not? You could come down to my place for dinner sometime if you want. I’ve got a lot of murder mystery movies, if you’re into that kinda thing.”

His face heats up, but you seem serious… you know what? This might as well be happening. 

“i’m down. Romeo won’t mind?” he adds, suddenly remembering this potential guy in your apartment.

“Nah. He’s actually pretty chill, though he’s never met a monster before.” 

“seriously? weird.” Monsters have been free for years now, how has anyone who lives in this city not met one yet?

“He stays in the apartment a lot… Well, hold on- I took him on a walk and a monster came up and wanted to meet him, so there’s that. Never a skeleton, though.”

Do humans… take their boyfriends on walks? He grins to himself at the thought of you dragging some poor kid along on a collar. The thought makes him touch his own collar. Sure, he wears his for the aesthetic, but the thought of you tugging on it… he snaps back into reality when you wave your hand in front of his face.

“You’re drooling.” you point out.

He wipes his mouth with a swipe of his sleeve and turns to you.

“sorry kiddo. heh.”

You frown for a second, seemingly concerned.

“Is that blood?”

He looks down at his sleeve. Well, he does have red saliva, but that’s just because it’s magic. You’ve probably never seen anything like it, though.

“nah, ’s just red.”

“Oh… you really do like red, don’t you?”

“not really.” (don’t tell her this.) “i mean, honestly, just kinda reminds me of the underground.” (stop it.) “my favorite color’s really green.” (ugh.)

You light up like a frickin’ Gyftmas tree when he says that, and clap your hands a little.

“Mine, too! I like light green, like grass.”

He flushes, knowing he’s the exact same way. 

“yeah… don’t tell anyone that, though, ok?”

You smile and nod. “Sure.”

The bus pulls to a stop, and the bus driver waves as you and Sans hop off. You wave back. Sans just kind of nods. Up to the lobby, where you expect you’re going to part ways- but, nope.

“mind if i walk ya to your apartment? meet Romeo and everythin’?”

You smile, feeling a tiny bit of color running to your face.

“Uh, sure. You’re not gonna rob me or something?”

“i could steal the frickin’ shirt off’a everybody in this place if i felt like it. if i wanted to rob ya, i woulda done it already.”

“Fair.”

Your apartment is on the ground floor, so there’s not much of a walk to get there. Sans privately notes that it’s probably one of the cheapest ones. It would be incredibly easy to break into. The thought worries him, slightly. A bunch of monster-hating humans and human-hating monsters might have seen you with him tonight. What if they try to track you down?

You pull the key out of your pocket and slip it in the crappy deadbolt: hell, it’s already starting to come off the door. He could break in here without even using brute force, without even pushing the door down. It would take a screwdriver and some determination, is all.

“You okay?” you ask him, as he stares at the lock.

“uh. yeah, fine.”

“Okay…” 

You push open the door- immediately a big golden retriever bounds to the door and covers you in kisses. Sans chuckles as you nuzzle the big guy right back. You’re so cute- and honestly, so is your dog.

“Sans, this- ehehe, stop- is Romeo. Romeo, this is Sans.”

The dog immediately turns to Sans and jumps up for more kisses- you hold onto his collar and say, “down”. Disappointed-looking, the dog sits, staring up at the skeleton with the biggest puppy eyes he’s ever seen. Damn.

Wait- did you say THIS was Romeo?!

Sans, registering that he’s been an idiot this entire time, starts roaring with laughter. He doubles over, folding like a lawn chair as he cracks up. You don’t get what he finds so funny, but his laughter is contagious, and you start to giggle, too. Romeo just gets more and more excited.

“i…” Sans tries to force out words around the laughing. “i thought Romeo was a PERSON!”

You start to really laugh, too, but you throw your hands up.

“I said I took him on walks, what did you think?!” 

“i thought he had a thing for collars, man, i didn’t know!!”

That makes you crack up even more, and soon the two of you are keeled over in the entryway of your apartment, laughing as hard as weirdos like you can laugh. Romeo runs around sniffing you and licking your faces. 

Frankly, you think it’s a night well-spent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finish the sentence!  
> A
> 
> (I want to know what you guys are gonna say)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dating... start!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol I know this is moving super fast, but this was meant to stay short XD  
> Edit:  
> I FRICKING FORGOT HALF OF THE CHAPTER BECAUSE CTRL-C CTRL-V LEFT IT OUT SO IF YOU READ IT BEFORE I FIXED IT IM SO FRIGGIN SORRY ACK I MESSED UP

You’re cleaning your apartment for all it’s worth. Sans is coming over tonight, and you really don’t want him to think it’s a trash dump. Little parts of you are trying to make it subtly more appealing to him. Pulling out all your green house-plants and setting them up on the windowsill. Setting out lots of cushy pillows and throw blankets to relax with on the couch. It may be a bit of a dump sometimes, but you’re going to make it as nice as you can.

Besides, if Romeo liked him as much as he did, then he must be a good guy. Your dog has an intuition when it comes to the guys you bring home. 

For dinner, you’re ordering pizza from your favorite place. Your reasoning for this goes something like, 1. Pizza is always a safe bet. If he doesn’t like pizza, you have to debate his sanity. 2. You can’t cook. Better to leave the perfect dinner up to someone else. But, you can make milkshakes, so there’s that.

Wait, will he be able to eat human food?

~~~~~  
Sans is doing literally nothing before coming over to your place tonight. Seriously, he has been laying on the couch all day, silently freaking out. 

“ARE YOU SERIOUSLY NOT GOING TO GET UP ALL DAY?!”

“nah.”

“ARE YOU SICK?”

“aw, you sound so concerned.”

“SERIOUSLY, BROTHER!”

He really does sound more worried than usual. And he hasn’t called him ‘brother’ in ages. Maybe today will be pretty okay.

“can i ask ya somethin’?”

“YOU HAD BETTER NOT BE MAKING A JOKE.”

“‘m not.”

In his peripheral vision, Sans can see Boss cross his arms.

“WELL, SPIT IT OUT, THEN.”

“. . .so, humans suck and all.”

“YES. MOST.”

“most, right. so, if there were some real nice human- or at least, tolerable- would ya kill ‘em?”

Papyrus pauses to think on that for a moment. He doesn’t really compute that this is anything other than hypothetical, which is exactly how Sans wants it to be. After a second or two, he asks,

“HAVE THEY GIVEN ME REASON TO KILL THEM?”

“nah. they just hang around or somethin’.”

“HANG AROUND HOW?”

“just, around us,” he shrugs. “in public or whatever.”

“PROBABLY NOT KILL THEM. JUST WARN THEM OFF. I DON’T NEED SOME HUMAN STICKING THEIR NOSE WHERE IT DOESN’T BELONG.”

Okay, that’s fair, coming from Boss. About what Sans expected. But the younger brother is sharp, and he sits on the end of the couch.

“YOU MADE AN ACQUAINTANCE OR SOMETHING, I TAKE IT.”

“somethin’ like that.”

His mind wanders back to your face as you doubled over laughing. Your smile was so wide, and cute- and you were cuddling and nuzzling Romeo in a way that he subconsciously wishes you’d do to him. Not that he’d ever admit that, of course. And that deck of cards you’d pulled out of your hair. Looking back, that was pretty damn clever of you. He can respect that. And when those creeps at the bar released you, and you fell into his arms… and he put his hand on your waist… he’d never felt so at peace that close to anyone before.

Alternately, those monsters who handled you so roughly at Grillby’s, who threatened to… well. Have their way with you in an alley or something. The thought makes him tremble with rage. You’re a human, and humans are delicate. Sure, they persevere, but they’re soft. Those bruises running along your jawline and cheeks from just that one monster’s fingers grabbing you… He never even got a chance to heal those. You’re so fragile, and it hurts him to think that if he isn’t there protecting you, anyone could get away with whatever they want.

“WHAT’S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?”

Best to just lie his way out of this one. He wants at least one dinner with you before his brother threatens to rip your head off your shoulders. Speaking of, he should probably head down now.

“nothin’. some kid at Grillby’s is all.”

“YOU HAD BETTER NOT BRING ANY HUMANS HOME, SANS, OR SO HELP ME…”

As Papyrus stalks off, Sans takes this opportunity to slip out. 

~~~~~

You hear a knock on your door- you aren’t sure whether it’s Sans or the pizza.

“Who is it?” you call, heading towards the door.

“yer supposed to say ‘who’s there’, but that’s close enough.”

You hesitate by the doorknob. Is he trying to tell a knock-knock joke?

“Who’s there?” you ask, curiously.

“yodel-a-e.”

“Oh my god.”

“just say it.”

You sigh- he can practically hear you roll your eyes roll through the door.

“Yodel-a-e-who?”

“i didn’t know you could yodel.”

You open the door to a very smug-looking skeleton leaning on your doorframe and sigh.

“Come on in already, pizza should be here in a few minutes.”

You turn and walk in, indicating with a finger at the towel he can leave his shoes on. He kicks them off (they’re huge trainers, he must have gotten them custom made) and follows you into the kitchen. 

“aw, c’mon. not a knock-knock joke kinda person, doll?”

“I am,” you admit, putting your hands up. “But I walked right into that one, that’s on me.”

You never would have guessed he was the joking type, but, here you are. It feels nice that he has this light, fun side that doesn’t involve cruelty or wit. It isn’t dry humor- it’s just so stupid that it’s funny. And it really is funny. You hop up onto the counter (your favorite place to sit, maybe in the whole house) and grin.

“yeah, you did… wait, did you say pizza?”

You remember your previous worries about monsters being able to eat human food and frown.

“Is that okay?”

“i haven’t had somethin’ other than lasagna in ages…”

You snicker, but he looks dead serious. His eyelights have a glimmer of hunger to them that you’ve recognized in Romeo’s eyes before. Speaking of, where is he?

“Oh my god, did I lock him in my room again?” you squeak, jumping off the counter and crossing to the door leading to your room. For a split second, you feel kind of… violated, somehow, and you can’t explain it. You hesitate, but continue towards the hallway.

~~~~~

Sans watches you hop up onto the counter, seemingly easily. This seems like a natural thing for you. Boss would kill him if he saw him sitting on the counter. You’re kind of adorable, watching him, swinging your legs back and forth. 

He notices that you’re wearing a soft green turtleneck. Did you wear that because it’s your favorite color, or because he mentioned that it was his? Or, was it just because you like it? Whatever it is, he wishes he could feel it… it looks so soft. That encourages a small train of weak (snuggly) thoughts to start through his head, which he puts a stop to immediately.

And that look on your face when you thought you had made some kind of mistake ordering pizza… you looked so worried you’d let him down. He’d never had anyone be that attuned to his feelings before. Or, you know, care about them at all. 

So, when you passed him to go free your dog from your room, Sans Judged you. Just to see if you were as good on the inside as you seemed. You’re seemingly innocent, and your intentions seem good, but you’d already proved to be crafty AND a good liar. On top of that, you’re a human. No one can trust humans. Which is why the results of Judging you were slightly surprising.

(Y/N) (L/N)  
20/20 HP

Okay, so, at least you seem healthy. That’s good, but, boring.

AT: 25  
DF: 6

Seeing as the typical average in both categories, for humans, is ten… he gets slightly worried. Not only are you actually pretty damn strong for someone of your size, but you’re super weak. If you got hot-headed and tried to get into a fight… sure, you’d do plenty of damage, but you could be killed in one turn if you weren’t careful. You’d better be damn good at dodging.

…

It kind of reminds him of himself, actually. Though, to an even further extreme.

Whatever.

Soul Color: Orange (Courage)

No surprises there. 

Wishes:  
*She wants to stay alive.  
*She doesn’t want to be alone.  
*She wants to feel safe.

Well, those wishes are desperate as hell. Maybe, if you warm up to him enough, he could try to help out with some. You come back into the room at Romeo’s heels- when the dog jumps up to lick at his face, you hop onto the counter and laugh.

~~~~~

Sans seems good with animals, you think, as he ruffles the fur on your dog’s head and returns his playful growls. When Romeo comes back with his favorite rope toy, you half-expect Sans to bite it, honestly. (He doesn’t, but he does beat Romeo at tug-of-war three times in a row, which impresses you quite a lot. You’ve never beaten your dog at that game.)

He seems like a really good guy. 

But your mom once told you to only judge a man (monster, as it is) after having dinner with him. How he eats, what he wants to talk about, his table manners, and how much he tips the food service are all big factors, she said. Mostly, you just want to see how he reacts to murder mystery movies. 

As if on cue, the doorbell rings, and Romeo goes bounding towards it. 

“That’ll be the pizza,” you say, following him.

You guessed correctly- a scrawny teenager pulls a box out of a sack hanging at his side, you check it to make sure you got the right order. Yep. Half cheese, half meat-lovers. You assumed Sans was that kind of guy, but, you played it safe on the other hand. Romeo is jumping up on his hind legs at the smell, trying to snatch a slice from the box. After paying, you head back inside. 

“You ready to watch some chick get murdered in black and white?” you ask, heading towards the living room.

“am i ever.”

~~~~~

You were only supposed to watch one or two. You ended up watching five, and staying up nearly til three in the morning. 

What you observed of Sans was… well, by your parent’s standards, unsatisfactory. But by yours, he was checking off all the boxes. Yeah, he didn’t use a plate when he ate, and sometimes crumbs fell on the couch, but Romeo was always there to be your little living vacuum when you needed him. And, sure, he liked putting his feet on your tiny coffee table, but so did you. You decided you weren’t going to judge him on how he ate, or if he was picky- you didn’t know if monsters had to eat different things than humans, so that wouldn’t be fair.

But he was sure meeting all of your standards. He guessed who would die and when, and who the murderer was, and even the big plot twist at the end, within minutes of the movie starting. Not to mention he laughed at the funny parts, and got quiet at the romantic parts, just like you do every time. He seemed enraptured, just like you are. He even went as far as to let Romeo sit on his lap.

However, he studied you, too. The way you kept shooting him glances to see his reactions to certain scenes, or how you would pull at the fluff on your turtleneck and play with the balls of cottony stuff that came off. You always blushed at the romantic parts. And you always muttered when someone was clearly about to walk into a trap.

“C’mon, c’mon, I liked you, don’t go in-“ the knife sound effect, and you wince. “there.”

That made him laugh under his breath. Just, seeing you like this. Guard down. Outside of your usual hard shell that you put up for monsters, your veil of confidence… you were actually super normal. A human. A person. 

And when you fall asleep after the credits roll on the fifth movie, it takes all of his self-restraint not to touch your face. Your peaceful… happy… sleepy face. It makes his soul throb- he hasn’t felt this way in ages. Maybe ever. The need to hold, and care for, and protect. And, simultaneously, to feel you all over him, touching and kissing… he wants to bite that perfect soft skin of yours, feel it everywhere.

Damn.

What the hell are you doing to him?!

Romeo hops up off his lap and walks over to yours, curling up and nuzzling your arm with his cold, wet nose. The motion makes you snap awake, kind of nervous-looking. 

“what?” he asks- he sounds cold and harsh. That wasn’t how he wanted it to come out. He’s probably just a little pissed at the dog for startling you when you were so calm. 

“Oh- Just. Wasn’t expecting the dog.”

He forces himself to calm down a little and shrugs.

“yer good. think i need to head home, though.”

“Oh.”

You sound kind of disappointed. He hates that. He hates it so much. He’d rather die than disappoint you at this point. You really are twisting him somehow. He wonders privately if you put something in his food that’s doing this to his soul.

“‘nless you want me to stay the night… or, y’know, a couple more hours.”

He grins as heat colors your face, and you struggle to find the right words. 

“I mean… if you’re free, or something. I don’t want your brother to, uh, kill me. Or you.”

“so all that confidence is fake?”

“What?” you ask, snapped out of your stuttering.

“i mean, how ya act at Grillby’s. all chill and stuff.”

You ponder this a moment… it isn’t FAKE, exactly. 

“Well, most of them plan on killing me the moment I stop becoming valuable to them. You know, bringing stuff to gamble with, making poker fun for them. If I wasn’t valuable, I’d be dead by now, heh.”

Okay, that explains the “wants to stay alive” and the “wants to be safe”, Sans thinks.

“then why’dya keep goin’ there?”

“Oh. Well, I can’t afford this place without a little extra cash. And I like the company. It’s, I mean, living life on the edge. But just one-on-one with people is different.” You mumble slightly- “You still might kill me, I dunno, but at least I’ll be with someone who appreciates good movies when I die.”

Bingo. “Doesn’t want to be alone.” 

“you hate livin’ alone, don’tcha?”

You look really uncomfortable at that, so you break eye contact and pet your dog. 

“I’m not alone, heheh, I have Romeo.”

Yeah. Yeah, he is one hundred percent staying the night here.

“mind if i fall asleep here, or are ya scared of monsters in yer bed?”

He knows it’s the right choice when your face flushes bright red.

~~~~~

A lot more “not-dates” like this go down over the next couple of days. He ends up falling asleep on the couch with you over and over again, and waking up with you in his arms, breathing in your sharp scent. Like citrus and metal and mints. You start stocking your fridge with his favorites- mustard (a lot of it), toast, which he likes burnt, and dark chocolate ice cream. Luckily, at least you like the ice cream. You got his number, and he got yours. You start texting him a lot, whenever you have an excuse to. He doesn’t even feign excuses, he just contacts you when he feels like it. You like his guts. 

Boss is, of course, nosy as heck, but Sans is careful to always provide evidence of him being out on the town, and not at your apartment downstairs. He continues asking about the acquaintance his brother met at Grillby’s. Sometimes out of curiosity, sometimes out of darker motives. Asking about your weaknesses, about what you liked to order. Asking if you had any loved ones. All of the signs are pointing to Boss wanting to hold you for ransom, and it was starting to freak Sans out.

(“hey,”) he texts, late one night- (“can u do smthn 4 me?”)

(“Sure, what?”)

(“can u screw in the lock on ur front door? it’s loose.”)

(“Why?”) you’d asked, confused.

(“i’ll tell u when i see u”)

That had made you relax some.

(“When’s that?”)

(“when r u free?”)

(“Anytime after six, all week.”)

(“c u tmrw, then”)

He didn’t even have to ask. 

He’d known you would say yes.

On and on like this. Small reinforcements for your safety (which you both contributed whole-heartedly to, after he’d warned you about what Papyrus might have in mind), followed by a not-date. Well, to be fair, they were “not-dates” until around a night or so ago-

You were curled up in his arms watching a bad comedy movie, not even bothering to wait until you were asleep for him to hold you. He’d asked,

“so, we dating, or what?”

You had gotten all hot and stuttery, finally spitting out,

“I mean, if you want.” 

“yeah. yeah, i do,” he’d muttered to himself- before saying, “damn, dating a human.” No, he hadn’t said it like he didn’t like the idea. It was more… surprised. Like he wasn’t expecting this.

“Damn, dating a skeleton,” you’d shot back, giggling. It’s kind of a rush, being with someone. Even when they weren’t dates, it was a rush. And now it’s even more.

~~~~~

Today, you stay home from work sick. Nothing much, just a bad head cold. Honestly, it’s more of a mental break than anything else. And maybe Sans will be down with just sleeping tonight so you can rest up and feel better. In the meantime, you do what you often do when you’re alone in your house- your hobby.

First, you open all of the windows and turn off all of the lamps. Natural light only, plus the nightlight that projects pink stars on the ceiling. It’s for little kids, but you love it anyway. Second, you pull your magic kit from out under your bed, along with a few decks of cards. Third, you perform magic tricks for your invisible audience. Whipping cards out of your hair, peeling apples and making the cards appear inside, linking solid steel rings with ease. You’ve always loved magic. When the monsters came up from the underground, you learned to love it even more. Probably not something cool to show Sans, though.

Romeo, asleep at your feet, perks up a little. You watch him carefully as he reacts to your little show, but, you think it’s odd that his ears are pointed towards the other room. He whimpers and runs out suddenly, midway through your finale. 

“Hey,” you sigh, exasperated.

Rolling your eyes, you look back at the deck- when Romeo comes bounding back into the living room with- IS THAT YOUR PHONE?!

“Romeo, drop it!” you cry- he nudges it against your leg, pawing at the floor and whimpering. He’s clearly agitated about something. But what? 

You pick it up off the floor and tilt it up to check the screen damage. Doesn’t look like anything. Phew. But looking at your notifications- three missed calls from Sans. So that’s what Romeo was hearing. You wonder if he was listening to you at all. Better call him back, you think, dialing the number. Three times… he must really have wanted to get ahold of you.

Beep. Be-

“y/n, ’s that you?” His voice is rough with relief, and also something else. It’s desperate, and sharp.

“Uh- yeah, it’s me. Are you okay?” you add.

“are you ok?” his voice is breaking, it’s so scared, you’ve never heard him sound like this before.

“Yeah, I’m fine- are YOU okay?”

“doesn’t f*ckin’ matter, where are you?”

“Sans?” you ask, clutching your phone a little tighter- what’s gotten into him, anyway?!

“where are you?”

“A-at my apartment, I called in sick- do you need to come over, what’s going on?”

You hear a faint laugh- it sounds so relieved.

“i’ll be right there, hold on-” 

The call cuts to static, and you feel your stomach drop into your shoes. Before you even have time to worry, though, you hear a knock at your door. Romeo bolts straight at it, clawing at the knob and yipping. You follow quickly.

Sure enough, when you open the door, there he is. He has thin cracks spreading all over one side of his skull, like shattered glass, and small knuckle-sized dents above one of his eyesockets where the damage is the worst. He’s covered in sweat, too, which you wouldn’t have believed was possible. It’s red, just like you remember his spit to be. Despite all of this, though, when he sees you, he just stumbles forward and hugs you.

Wow.

That’s a first.

“Sans, w-what-” you start, looking up at him. His whole body is shaking with weak laughter, seemingly relieved that you’re here. “W-what the hell happened to you?”

Your hand, trembling, reaches up to his face, running light fingers over the cracks. His hand plucks yours off of his skull, wincing.

“watch the damage, darlin’.”

“What… WHO.” your shock melts into anger (quicker than he expected it to). “Who did this to you?!”

“hey, doll. cool yer top. ’s fine.” He seems amused that you would try to fight for him- especially figuring who you’d be fighting. 

“It’s NOT.” 

“can i lay down?” he finally asks, hoping to put an end to your little violent streak. It works, at least. The fire in your eyes gives way to concern. You shut the front door, lock the deadbolt, and guide him over to the couch. Romeo follows closely by Sans, nudging him with his muzzle and whining. 

“hey, buddy, ’s ok. ‘m gonna be fine, ’s no big deal.”

You snatch up your kit and cards, drop them on the coffee table, and help him lie down onto the pillows. He grunts slightly as he adjusts his various injuries to the couch, then shuts his eyesockets. You crouch by him, shaking his shoulder until he cracks them open again.

“We can’t let you sleep until that damage is taken care of, I won’t know if you…”

He chuckles darkly.

“die?”

“Well, yeah.”

“trust me, dollface, you’d know if i bit the dust, heh. can ya close the windows?”

You do so, drawing both the blinds and the curtains, until the only lights are that of the pink nightlight and his eyelights. Then you sit at the end of the couch and demand an explanation for his injury and for his worry about you. He sighs.

“boss got drunk. he ain’t fun when he’s drunk, either. i told him i was headin’ out, n’ he started drilling me about where i was goin’. started talkin’ shit about humans, started talkin’ shit about anyone who wanted to make friends with ‘em, including me. he started sayin’ he was gonna find out who the hell “my friend” was, if it meant…” he hesitates. 

You already look so distraught. Best to not throw in Boss’s colorful death threats. 

“…if it meant he had to turn the city upside-down. started makin’ calls and junk. he figured out who you were, where ya work, cuz yer name was in the registry or somethin’, but he hasn’t worked out that you live right under his nose. i thought you were there, i didn’t think you’d make it out in time…”

Your hand is raised over your mouth, and you’re trembling slightly. If you hadn’t called in sick, you might be dead right now.

“tried to leave and go getcha outta there, but i got this,” he says, gesturing at his face with a wave of a hand. “shouldn’t be too hard to heal, but i might need to sleep a little first before i can do it. ‘m not allowed in my place anymore ‘til i swear off talkin’ to humans, ’n i don’t really have anywhere else, so i was wonderin’-”

“Of course you can stay here, I’ll take care of you,” you say, hurriedly. His expression softens just the slightest bit as he looks at the concern written plainly in your eyes.

“ya don’t hafta if you don’t want to. can’t guarantee you’re gonna be too safe.”

“I want to, I don’t care. You’re my, well,” you don’t want to say friend, you’re closer than that. And boyfriend would be a bit of a stretch. “You’re important to me. I don’t want you to be alone if you’re hurt.”

“heh. thanks, doll.”

“Of course…” he watches you for a moment, engraving the memory of those eyes into the inside of his skull, then sighs heavily. “You can sleep, if you need to. Will ice help at all, or, do you just need time?”

…

He wants to tell you to just stop…

Stop being so damn nice to him when he can barely be half of what you deserve. He wants to tell you to stop being worried. He can handle this, he’s handled worse. And, most of all, he wants you to stop treating his brother like some far-off problem. He could come banging on your front door in seconds, for all he knows, and he’d kill you. 

Sans doesn’t know if he could handle that.

“no, i think i just need’ja around, and maybe somethin’ to keep my magic up.”

“Like what?” you ask, curiously.

“oh- just food. anything, honestly.”

“Oh. Alright. Romeo!” you call, turning to your dog. Sans watches you point to the foot of the couch, where his legs are resting- he jumps up and sits obediently. “Guard.”

Guard?

You head into the kitchen- Romeo, for once, doesn’t follow. Instead, he sits up perfectly straight, twitching his ears towards every sound that doesn’t come from his boney friend. Huh. “Guard”. That’s a good trick. Probably useful, living alone. He wonders how you taught it to him. He also wonders what would happen if something were to come too close.

You come back from the other room a few minutes later with burnt toast and a bottle of mustard. (Romeo sniffs and lets you by. You must be the exception to his “guard” command, Sans thinks.) The food should be enough to tide him over, at least enough to help him with his healing magic. You hand him the plate and watch him eat gingerly, trying not to let too much movement irk the cracks on his left side. 

“Does it hurt that much?” you ask, sitting down on the coffee table.

“you try gettin’ punched in the face with one’a these,” he says, holding up a large, skeletal fist, before dropping it back to his side. You don’t speak after that, except to tell Romeo he can relax. Sans winces after a moment. 

“‘m sorry, just a little-“

“I don’t blame you,” you cut over him, shaking your head. “It’s alright. Do you want to sleep on my bed? It’s a lot more comfy than this thing. And if, uh, healing is a private thing, I can leave you alone.”

“sure.”

He sits up on his own, ignoring your offer of assistance. You let him follow you to your (rather messy) room, then gesture to the bed, piled with fluffy blankets. Most are either green, white, or pink. Boss would be laughing openly at him, but Sans has never seen something so inviting in his life. It’s just as comfy as it looks, too. As he settles in, you pull some sheets over him like he’s a babybones, and flick off the lamp. 

“You want me to go, or…”

The question hangs off openly.

Unable to bring himself to outright ask you to stay, he shakes his head and holds out a hand. You take it, and he pulls you in after him.

~~~~~

It didn’t matter how much you tried to stay awake. You were asleep within minutes. Comfy blankets, dark room, a comforting arm around you, and someone else’s steady breathing lining up with yours. Even when a green light of some kind flickered to life in front of your closed eyes, you only opened them for a moment to make sure Sans was still there (he was). 

Sans had a similar problem- the environment for falling asleep was perfect. Comfortable bed, warmth as you curl up into his side, nuzzling your nose into his ribcage… after the healing magic (which he kept quiet and dim, so as not to wake you), it was only a matter of time. He fell asleep, snoring slightly, with one hand around your shoulders. 

Romeo was at the cracked bedroom door, standing guard for any intruders that might disturb his friends’ sleep. A few times he growled when he heard loud, angry-sounding people outside the windows, but other than that, he kept silent vigil all day. 

~~~~~

Sans wakes up when he feels a tiny touch on his face, soft and hesitant. He reaches up to feel it, but it disappears the moment he twitches his arm. Cracking open an eyesocket, he looks around a little, taking stock of his surroundings. And then there’s you, pretending to be asleep, tucked to his side. He can tell you’re pretending, because your heart is hammering so hard he can feel it through his bones. 

“hey, you don’t hafta fake it, doll,” he says, in a low voice.

Sure enough, your head lifts, and the guilty-looking expression on your face makes him laugh. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you up. Sorry.”

“don’t worry ‘bout it. what were ya doin’, anyway?”

You open your mouth, then close it, trying to find a good excuse that doesn’t involve trying to reach up and feel his face. 

“What time is it?” you ask, trying to divert the topic.

He looks at you dubiously, then says,

“you tryin’ to see if i was breathin’? or you just wantin’ to touch me?” 

You nod, (whatever THAT’S supposed to mean) trying to hide your face in his jacket. It works for a few quiet moments before you feel HIS hand on YOUR face, stroking your cheek with a thumb and carding through your hair. 

“this ok?” he asks, gently continuing his little caresses.

You nod again earnestly, and lean into his touch. He chuckles, gently exploring your face. Eyelids with little lashes on the ends, which he brushes over with the flat part of his sharp fingers. Those cheeks, flushed red over your smooth, dark skin. Freckles dot your little nose, squishy and soft and perfect. Those lips, parted slightly in a breathy sigh. Your hair in tight curls that make a dark halo around your head, pressed under one of his hands. So cute. So warm. So soft. Your eyes flutter closed, and you hum contentedly. 

“’s this what you were tryna do to me, babydoll?”

You nod a third time. He pulls away. 

“go ‘head then.”

He watches your hand slide over his jacket. You carefully trail feather-light touches onto his newly healed skull, not sure if it’s okay to touch. His hand comes up and covers yours, pressing it into the bone.

“y’can touch it.”

More confidently, you feel all over his skull. His nasal bone, which you note looks like an inverted heart. The sharp gold canine tooth that sticks out from his grin. He even lets you poke around his eyesockets, as long as you’re gentle and don’t go inside. Just like you, he leans into your hand. When you can’t find anything else to touch, you just leave your hand on his jawline and relax, leaving your eyes locked on his eyelights.

It takes a few minutes before you work up enough courage to say it; but you know it’s what you want. So much.

“Can I kiss y-”

Before the whole sentence is even out of your mouth, he’s leaned over and pressed his teeth to your lips. Slightly unconventional, but surprisingly satisfying. You turn your head at the right angle so he can get more in, pulling your arms around the back of his neck. He holds you there with one hand in your hair, only releasing when you need to breathe. And, the moment you get a breath in, he dives back in for more. 

When you finally can’t take anymore, you just nuzzle your nose into the fur around his jacket. He pants slightly, watching you.

“worth the wait, sweetheart.”

~~~~~

After Papyrus was sober, he seemed to have forgotten everything he said, including kicking Sans out of the house. Which, frankly, was a relief. Not that he really wanted to be at the house anyway. He’d much rather be with you. But, quality time with family is supposedly super important, and you have Romeo to protect you until he can come back.

“Sans,” he starts, scathingly. His voice is dangerously quiet, and it makes Sans look up immediately.

“y-yeah, boss?”

“You seem very hesitant to talk about the period when I was intoxicated. What happened?”

Oh, boy. “you were really pissed. at humans. and me. clocked me in the face and kicked me outta the damn house.”

“I made phone calls, too, didn’t I?”

“yyyyeeeaaaahhhh.”

“And?”

“well. you were tryna find my “human acquaintance” i mentioned a few weeks back, tryna kill ‘er.”

Papyrus scoffs.

“Did I succeed?”

“almost,” Sans mutters, looking at the floor. Paps’ eyesockets squint at him.

“AND WHAT’S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN??”

“well, ya found out her name, where she works. don’t remember where, though. tried sendin’ some guys, but, she wasn’t there.”

“YOUR HUMAN FRIEND IS A GIRL?!”

Oops.

“yeah. so what?”

“TELL ME EVERYTHING, RIGHT NOW, YOU IMBECILE, OR I’LL BASH YOUR SKULL IN!!” he shrieks. He pushes Sans back onto the couch and crosses his arms.

“well… i met her at this poker game, see?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Paps isn't bad boi  
> he damaged boi


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> my nam is Rom  
> an wen i smel  
> my bestest fren  
> in deep troubel  
> i break the dor  
> i com out free  
> i see the dangr  
> i tak tha leep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually not sure how the "make a card show up in a fruit" trick works? (I can't do magic lol)   
> So I'm winging it here  
> . . .  
> AND DON'T TELL ME THE MAGIC IS IN THE MYSTERY-

Sans came clean.

About (almost) everything.

Maybe it was because of the attacks held to the back of his head when he hesitated, or the yelling, or maybe even just the weight of the secret on his soul… but, he also just really enjoyed talking about you. His girl. His sweetheart. His. Papyrus was quiet until Sans hesitated, and then he thought to yell. But otherwise he was a good listener. He seemed to be taking this fairly well, actually.

“… and i went to her place, she helped me heal up, and we took a nap. ’s it, boss.”

“I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU,” he snarls, rubbing his temple. “BUT IT ALSO EXPLAINS WHY YOU’VE BEEN SO DAMN HAPPY THE PAST FEW DAYS.”

Sans just grins embarrassedly, and shrugs. 

“she kinda does that.”

“YES, I SUPPOSE SO.”

“you gonna… kill her?”

“WELL, SHE CLEARLY MEANS SOMETHING TO YOU, WHICH IS A TERRIBLE WEAKNESS TO HAVE. ESPECIALLY FOR A HUMAN. BUT, IF YOU CAN KEEP HER IN ONE PIECE…” he growls, clearly not wanting to do this. “YOU MAY CONTINUE TO INTERACT WITH HER. BRING BACK REPORTS ABOUT YOUR TIME TOGETHER IN CASE SHE SHOWS ANY SIGNS OF ATTACK. BUT!!! IF THESE VISITS CAUSE ANY MORE SLACKING THAN USUAL, I WILL HAVE TO KILL HER!”

Sans takes a few deep breaths, trying to solidify this idea firmly in his head. You’re going to be safe. For real. Of course, he’d better pick up some slack if he doesn’t want to find you in little pieces in a closet, but, still! There’s- what did they call it… hope. 

“NOW, WHAT DO YOU SAY THAT I’VE SPARED HER MISERABLE LIFE?”

“thanks, boss.”

“DON’T THANK ME!!”

“well, whaddya WANT me to say?”

“I’D LIKE TO MEET HER! NOW!!”

“oh.” (bad idea.) “uh. lemme text her real quick.”

Though Papyrus groans, Sans picks up his phone and texts you-

(“told boss abt u bc he was tryin 2 kill me”)  
(“its fine, ur safe, and I can keep comin’ 2 c u”)  
(“but he wants to come over now 2 meet u”)  
(“i would lock ur room and hide ur dog, he doesn’t like animals”)

A response:

(“He’s seriously not going to kill me?”)

(“i wouldn’t let him, sweetheart”)

(“And he’s not going to hurt YOU again?”)

(“i’m pretty hard 2 hit when i’m not thnkn abt u”)

(“Oh.”)

He chuckles, as he seemingly managed to fluster you, then turns to Papyrus. 

“we can go now.”

Paps eyes his brother slightly warily. When you live for someone, you’re prepared to die. If he thinks sticking his neck out for you is a good idea, he would have to take advantage of that- to warn the both of you. Because you seem to care about Sans, just as much as he cares about you. If the story is true.

“COME ON, THEN.”

~~~~~  
You jump at the loud bangs on your door. Nothing like Sans’ knock-knock jokes, you think. Your apartment is cleaned, both Romeo and your magic kit are locked in your room, and you have some food set out to make a good impression. 

“Bar mode. Confidence,” you tell yourself. “It’s not fake.”

You let your shoulders relax, eyes half-open and appraising, and go to get the door. 

. . . First Impression:

If you thought SANS was tall?

He has NOTHING on his brother.

Papyrus stoops slightly to get through your front door, which, you note, is about seven frickin’ feet tall. He’s spiky all over, with a torn red-black cape and high heeled boots. Battle armor. Scars. No wonder everyone was afraid of him, he looks like he could crush someone’s skull with one hand and not break a sweat. Behind him, Sans stands, hands in pockets, eyeing you with satisfaction.

You haven’t shown any signs of fear. Just shock.

“Hello, Papyrus,” you say, stepping aside. “You can come in.” (You don’t mention your ‘leave your shoes on the towel’ rule. He’s wearing those huge, tall boots, and you aren’t even sure he CAN take them off easily, much less would.)

He nods stiffly and walks in, head only inches from hitting the ceiling. Sans follows, nodding his approval to you silently. He appears to be sweating again. He’s nervous, you realize. He knows just about as much as you do about Paps’ intentions. And, y’know, if he plans on killing anyone. 

“HELLO, HUMAN. (He says that word with such disgust…) I AM THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS, AS YOU WELL KNOW. I AM HERE TO INSPECT YOUR HOME TO SEE IF YOU HAVE ANY INTENTIONS OF HURTING MY BROTHER.”

You give a small gasp, trying to fight the smile that threatens to come to your face. THAT’S what he wants?? To see if you plan on murdering Sans?? 

“W-well,” the smile is seeping into your words- you fight it down. “Inspect away. I really don’t plan on hurting anyone.”

“ARE YOU LAUGHING AT ME?!”

That makes you go pale. You remember the lasagne recipe story and suck down your grin.

“No. Why?”

“HM,” he considers something, then waves a hand. “COME ON, THE BOTH OF YOU.”

He stalks into your kitchen. You manage to make an argument against the knife block (which is a normal thing to have, just because you have knives doesn’t mean you’re going to KILL someone). Other than that, he deems it fine. He even tries the lemon bars you made, to check if they’re poisoned. Even after trying three, he practically eats the whole tray- “just to be sure.”

The living room is also cleared, though he does give pause over the massive collection of murder mystery movies.

“WHY DO YOU HAVE THESE, HUMAN?”

“humans get killed in ‘em, boss, not monsters,” Sans offers.

“OH.”

You realize he’s going to want to go into your room, and see your bed, and your clothes, and your dog. And maybe even the magic kit you’re so embarrassed about having…

*thud*

“what was that?” Sans asks, looking up.

*thud*

“I DON’T KNOW… HUMAN, WHAT IS THAT?!”

*THUD*

“It’s…”

*THUD* 

It’s Romeo.

~~~~~  
Allow me to explain. Romeo is a special dog- he has remarkable intuition, good instincts, and one hell of an amazing nose. 

As such, he can smell fear. Or, at least, the scent of the nervous sweat coming from both you and Sans. And when he heard the yelling and stomping in the other room, he knew for sure he had to get you out of there. Unfortunately, the door to your bedroom is locked, and he can’t escape…

yet.

Running start, jump, turn, and *SLAM* against the door. 

No luck.

Again.

Back, running start, jump, turn, *SLAM* against the door.

Again, and again, and, finally, the lock broke. He was free! Bolting into the living room, finding the intruder, and taking a flying leap at him.

~~~~~

The next ten seconds seem to happen in slow motion.

After a loud crack and a *SLAM*, Romeo came bounding into the living room. He paused, eyeing you, then Sans, and finally, Papyrus. He poised, and began running at him.

“NO!” you shouted, stumbling forward. But it was too late. 

He sprung up, off his hind legs, and went flying through the air at Papyrus. He couldn’t dodge in time for the dog to bowl him over, right on top of your coffee table, which collapsed. Pinning him to the floor, Romeo growled and barked like he was giving Papyrus a very angry talking-to. Sans started laughing about then, but you were petrified. 

“Romeo, off! Now!!”

He looked up and walked over Papyrus (to this day, you don’t know whether or not stepping on his face with all four paws was an accident or not) and sat down in front of you in full guard mode.

“Bad dog! Very bad dog!!” 

Sans’ laughter redoubled at that, and he had to sit down on the edge of the couch so he didn’t collapse on the floor. 

Papyrus, however, stood up in a rage that was evident in his eyesockets. His voice was, once again, dangerously low. 

“Human… what is that? A weapon?”

“No, it’s- it just my dog, he was worried you were going to hurt me, so he tried to… save me, I think.”

“Save YOU from ME?”

Sans looks up as Papyrus gets closer to you, and Romeo’s growls get steadily louder. 

“hey, hey, boss, you promised-“

“I promised she would be safe if she had no intent to hurt us. And this THING is clearly a weapon. She may have designed it to kill us both when we arrived today.”

You shake your head, trying to command Romeo to relax.

“No, I really wasn’t, I just didn’t-“

Sans stands up, putting his hands up and forcing his way between the two of you.

“boss. chill. it’s just her dog, he’s actually really sweet most of the time. y/n, it’s alright. calm down.”

“I WILL NOT “CHILL” UNLESS SHE CAN PROVE TO ME THAT THING IS NOT A THREAT.”

An idea falls into your head out of nowhere- but, it’s worth a shot. 

“Hey… I have an idea.”

Both brothers turn to you.

“If I can show you something really cool… impossible, even… will you let both of us off the hook?”

Papyrus crosses his arms.

“LIKE WHAT?”

~~~~~

“Is this your card?”

“HOW THE HELL ARE YOU DOING THIS?!”

You fight back a smile. You have possibly the most dangerous monster in this city sitting cross-legged in front of you, raging over a magic trick. Not even real magic, either. Sans is cackling at Paps’ reactions- but your tricks are also impressing him, somewhat.

“It’s magic,” you shrug, smugly.

“NO, IT IS MOST DEFINITELY NOT! MAGIC WOULD BE ABLE TO EXPLAIN THESE PHENOMENA!!”

“So, I did the impossible? I’m free to go?"

“ABSOLUTELY NOT! SUPPLY MORE OF THIS FALSE MAGIC, HUMAN!”

Okay. Big finale. Last trick. Pull out all the stops.

And don’t. Mess. Up.

“See that orange?” you ask, pointing to one sitting on the counter. Papyrus looks over, looks it up and down, then nods.

“YES.”

“Okay. New deck of cards, right?” You wave one in the air. “If you don’t believe me, you can count all the cards, the seal is still on the box and everything.”

He takes it, opens it, counts every card meticulously, and returns it to you.

“ALL ARE ACCOUNTED FOR, YES.”

You hold out the deck. 

“Choose one at random, and sign it with this.”

He signs the card (an ace of hearts) with the provided marker, and returns it to you. You slide it back in the deck, shuffle it. Slight of hand is tricky. Very, very tricky. You have to get the timing just right. As you shuffle, you talk.

“So. You like oranges?” (Nice going. Real eloquent.)

“NO,” Papyrus informs you.

“yep,” Sans nods, laughing. 

“Cool. Wanna go get that one?”

Sans snaps his fingers, and it lands in his hand. You aren’t sure how he did that, but you hope it didn’t mess up the trick.

“HUMAN, WHERE IS MY CARD?”

You look at him with a sly smile and hand him the deck.

“It’s not in here, that’s for sure.”

He checks for it, re-checks, re-checks…

“How’s that orange coming along, Sans?” you ask, almost tauntingly, as you look over at him. Smile as his eyesockets get wider and wider, just like you pictured your audience’s eyes would. 

“what the f*ck?”

“WHAT?”  
Sans pulls a card, folded twice, out of the centre of the fruit. Papyrus snatches it out of his hand, quickly unfolds it. Ace of hearts. His signature. What?? HIS CARD WAS IN THE ORANGE??

You look at Papyrus for approval, for some sign that you’re free to be left alone, but he gives you no such thing. Instead he turns, glares, and says,

“AS A PRICE FOR YOUR WEAPON-DOG THING ATTACKING ME, YOU WILL TEACH ME HOW TO DO THIS FALSE MAGIC, ONCE A WEEK. I AM FREE ON SATURDAYS, AND SO THAT IS WHEN YOU WILL BE HERE.”

You blanch slightly…

“I get money to pay rent on Saturday nights, and I work all day. I can’t.”

“YOU WILL. I WILL PAY YOU. HOW MUCH DO YOU NEED?”

Sans’ look of surprise, yours of pure shock, and Papyrus looking like he is about to get a very fun birthday present. Romeo just eyes him warily and beats his tail on the floor.

“U-um… around, uh, seventy-five bucks? Just to get me by.”

“DOUBLE THAT. ONE FIFTY. THE HIGHER PRICE, THE BETTER QUALITY, SO I EXPECT VERY HONEST, SAFE, AND THOROUGH LESSONS. THE DOG IS NOT PERMITTED.”

“Okay. Thank y-“

“DO NOT THANK ME. COME ON SANS, OUR WORK HERE IS DONE.”

Papyrus stands and heads toward the door- Sans follows, but drags his feet and hesitates a moment, tilting your chin up with a gentle hand. 

“ya did real good, sweetpea. i think you’re gonna be ok.”

“I think so, too,” you admit, smiling.

“see ya later tonight?”

“It’s twelve o’clock, Sans.”

“i know. gonna be here at two, k?”

“I’ll be asleep, you’ll need a house key.”

“i’ll take one.”

“I have one over on the counter, just take it.”

You put your hand over his, squeeze it, and stand, starting to pack up your cards and things. The coffee table is still collapsed, but, at least the couch is alright. You feel a hand ghost your waist, and a skele-kiss land on the back of your neck. You shiver pleasantly.

But when you turn around to meet it, Sans shortcuts away with a wink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who liked my summary poem


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a bonus/wrap-up/ending

So, basically, in two weeks, you got a boyfriend. He comes over and stays whenever he can. You can walk in monster neighborhoods with honest confidence, because you know you have the lords of the head of a crime ring watching your back. Which can also be a bit of a target on your head.

In two weeks, you have attracted more attention from more monsters than ever, and had two near-death experiences. It’s the most fun you’ve ever had in a long time.

In two weeks, Romeo has become the most popular pup in Ebott City, once the story got out about him nearly murdering Papyrus. Nobody thought ill of him- they just liked his guts. And his instincts. Nobody really knows how the story got out, but you get the feeling Sans had something to do with it.

In two weeks, you have taught one of the most utterly dangerous monsters you have ever met how to do… magic tricks. He sits, criss-cross-applesauce on the floor, while you teach him about the cards and the hand placement and the special shuffles. You’d never seen someone threaten to kill you one minute and clap his hands in excitement in the next- but, now, you have.

You hope you never forget it.

Or, if everything goes south because of the changes, you hope you- at the very least- know how to fight someone like Sans taught you.

~~~~~

Bonus: 

~~~~~

“this has got to be the corniest f*ckin’ movie i’ve ever seen.”

It’s a rom-com- and a pretty good one, at that- but the part you’re on, even you have to admit, is pretty cheesy. 

“Well,” you yawn, “you wanted to come over at two, so I got movie choice. Only makes sense.”

“is this what humans are into?” he says, cringing slightly as the couple on-screen make out over a candlelit dinner. 

“Some, probably. Not me personally, though.”

“thank god.”

“Right?”

Once that part is over, everything goes pretty smoothly. You start to fall asleep- your eyes are only open halfway. Romeo is curled up next to you on one side, and Sans is on the other.

It feels safe- sheltered from the universe. You’re the only one who gets to experience this moment.

“so,” you jump a little when Sans breaks the silence. “if you aren’t into that kinda thing, what ARE ya up for? y’know, besides movies.”

“Movies are my go-to when I don’t know what else to do,” you admit. “I mean, I’ve never really made it this far with anyone before. I know everything I know about relationships from watching them, you know? Online, in real life, on movies… I’ve never really worked out what my ideal date is. Poker, maybe? There’s probably some way to turn that sexy, right?”

“maybe we oughta find out.”

“Maybe, huh?” you counter, grinning. “Okay, what’s YOUR type, then?”

“. . . what do you think my type is?” he asks, mischievously.

“I’d assume you’re dirty as hell, but, you’re full of surprises.”

“that i am, sweetheart. well, you’re not completely off the mark, with that. but i really like this, too-“ he gestures at the TV, then to you. “it feels really chill. after meeting paps, you might be able to guess that i don’t get to chill a lot.”

Your eyes light up-

“You called him Paps…!”

“what? no,” he says, turning his head back towards the credits, flushing red.

“Yes! You totally did! That is SO adorable, is that what you think when you talk about him?”

“nope. you must be hearin’ things, sweetpea.”

“Oh MY god, that is so cute. Romeo, isn’t that so cute?”

Your dog perks up and licks your hand, then settles back down.

“See, even Romeo agrees.” He continues to be flustered and brush it off, so you change the subject. “But- yeah. I wouldn’t expect that you get that much relax time. How do you sleep?”

He chuckles, eyelights dimming slightly.

“sometimes i just don’t.”

“Oh. Well, we’re fixing that. You’ll get so much sleep, you’ll have no choice but to stay up late and let us try working out what our “things” are.”

“i like the sound of that,” he says, with a grin and a slight growl behind his voice.

You hesitate for a second, a surprised laugh bubbling up.

“Okay, THAT was hot. How do you even do that without vocal cords?”  
“ya like it? ’s that yer thing?” he asks, continuing to use it, leaning in to your ear.

You may be half-asleep at this point, but you know for a fact that that will never get old. Goosebumps raise on your arms, your face gets hot… geez. Maybe you’re just loopy.

“oh, man, that reaction,” he laughs, leaning back again. “don’t worry, doll, i’ll take real good care’a ya once you’ve gotten some sleep, k? you need it.”

You smile and nod, slipping off.

“You sure Paps isn’t going to come try to kill us?”

“he won’t. ’n even if he did, i wouldn’t let ‘im.”

“Okay… night, Sans.”

“g’night, dollface.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> snrk  
> paps


End file.
